


a kiss before growing up

by flugantamuso



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flugantamuso/pseuds/flugantamuso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edmund wants another chance; Caspian wants to give it to him. Takes place at the end of 'Prince Caspian,' slash implications, written for angela snape in 3fan holidays</p>
            </blockquote>





	a kiss before growing up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angela_snape](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=angela_snape).



Narnian holidays weren't like British holidays. There was no sitting quietly at the table while the adults talked, not just because here they were considered adults, for even the children here laughed and sang and danced. Everyone was busier and faster and wilder. Conversations were spirited, with no awkwardness or fear of impropriety. The food came piping hot and was torn into with great gusto and without ceremony.

Edmund sat silent for a moment and observed. He remembered this sort of thing from before, from his last stay in Narnia, but only as a sort of blurred dream. The dream had become clearer the longer he was in Narnia, but there was still an air of unreality about it. this, though, was the realest he'd felt in a long time.

Trumpkin sat across from him, with a little dwarf girl in his lap. He was telling her a story, and she was squealing every time he came to the parts with Aslan. The tables were laden with goose with cranberry sauce, truffles (only much nicer than those you'd have in England), spice cakes and berry pies and roast duck and little sugar candies that melted in your mouth and barrels and barrels of cordials and beautiful deep wines.

It was a lovely evening, made even better by the presence of friends. Caspian sat at the center, with Peter and Susan on either side of him. Currently Caspian was accepting a gift from a group of giants from the north. They were so large that their greeting sent a buzz through the soles of Edmund's feet. The gift that they were giving was what looked like a lifetime supply of lard. Caspian looked at it rather helplessly and turned anxious eyes to Edmund, who was bent over laughing.

Aslan had been there earlier, but somewhere in the swirl of the dancing and the smoke from the great fireplace he'd disappeared. This had worried Caspian until Lucy had explained that it happened with regularity. Bacchus was there, whirling and dancing and laughing. He'd drawn a protesting Caspian out and spun him around until the poor lad was stumbling and laughing himself silly. In England no prince would have done any such thing. Edmund smiled at the comparison.

There were great waxy candles that stood several feet high, falling layer by layer lower, until finally late in the night the guests began to drift off to beds and chairs and pillows in front of fireplaces. No one wanted to go home tonight, and few of them were sober enough to make the trip bearable.

Edmund wandered up to the tower, where the cold night air sobered him.

He thought about what it would be like to stay, to grow up a Narnian all over again. Would be be a better king this time around, a better brother? But of course there was no use thinking on it. Nothing happened the same way twice. He only wished that Caspian could have been there the first time around.

He leaned on the ramparts, the chill in the stones seeping into his bones. Below him there were little lights moving to and fro as people settled in for the night. There was a step behind him and Edmund smiled as Caspian said, "I might have known that you'd come here. Always the loner, Edmund?"

"I'm never truly alone, in Narnia, my King," he responded, turning.

"Not your king, your Majesty," protested Caspian.

Edmund arched his brows. "No? But you are my king, as I am yours, and we are both Aslan's."

Caspian smiled. "Fair enough. Then why my King do I find you thus alone, on this of all nights?"

Edmund leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the Narnian sky. He knew Tarva and Alambil. All the stars and constellations, in fact. He'd never bothered learning them at home, in England. Perhaps he should.

"It's a curious thing," he said, still looking at the stars, "to have two homes." He could feel Caspian settling in beside him, close enough to share body heat.

"What is it like, in this England of yours?" asked Caspian curiously.

Edmund smiled a little wistfully. "It's busy, and noisy, and dirty, ever so much more than even the busiest, noisiest and dirtiest city in Calormen. It's a good deal larger than Narnia, and not quite as beautiful or mysterious, but still"--here he shrugged, unsure of how to continue.

"Still home," supplied Caspian.

"Yes," Edmund whispered. He shuddered a little bit at the cold, and felt Caspian press close to him. He turned his head so that he could see Caspian's dark eyes, so close to his own. "I have to go back tomorrow."

"And will you miss your kingdom, your Majesty?" said Caspian in a low voice.

"I'll miss my people," corrected Edmund, sliding his hand through the silky hair at the base of Caspian's neck. "People make a kingdom. People make a--"

"Home," sighed Caspian, and met Edmund's mouth with his own.

It was a gentle kiss, comforting but bittersweet. Caspian broke away first with a laugh. "Your face is cold, your Majesty."

Edmund smiled and laced his fingers with Caspian's. "Maybe we should go inside and warm up."

And that is what they did.


End file.
